Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  “Um, Berg—I mean, Trey is waiting for me.”

  She waved me forward. “He can wait a few more minutes. This way.” She walked on toward the hallway.

  I glanced toward the kitchen, my body already turning to follow her. It was just a few minutes. What could it hurt? Ha. I knew the answer to that one. I’d just have to keep my distance.

  She waited for me outside one of the rooms. “I want to show you something. Lindsey, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I thought so. Sometimes I don’t remember so well.”

  Uh, what should I say to that? “It happens.” Ew, Lindsey. Could’ve chosen better words.

  “Yes.” She took my hand, tugging me forward. Her skin felt amazingly silky, her fingers a little bony—just like my granny’s used to. A swirl of different emotions danced through my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Look what I did this morning,” she said, presenting me with a view of four potted petunias on a low shelf.

  Little red, purple, white, and pink blooms winked up at me from dark soil. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Yes, they are.” She let go of my hand and ran two fingers along the rim of one of the pots. “I wanted to plant them in the ground, but my son said we might have another freeze and then I’d lose them. I’ll have to transplant them later, of course, but I didn’t want to lose them. I’ve lost so many things already.”

  Oh, no. I was completely out of my depth here. Except maybe … maybe I could just pretend she was my granny. I could talk to her then. “Were they plants?”

  “The things I lost?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some of them. Back where I used to live, I had a lovely garden. I spent hours working in it.” She tilted her head and leaned closer like she had a secret. “There was a section in the very back of the yard where I kept a small compost pile. It made the most lovely rich, dark soil. I used it in my garden, and everything from my flowers to my few vegetables thrived.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  She nodded. “It was. I kept the compost hidden, of course. Back behind the bushes so it wouldn’t be an eyesore.” The lines on her face seemed to deepen, as though just thinking about this weighed her down. “It’s all gone now. I’m here, and I’ve lost my garden.”

  “I’m truly sorry,” I said. No other words matched the situation.

  She drew in a deep breath. “But now”—she motioned to her petunias—“I’m starting over.” She placed a hand on my forearm. “Isn’t that the way things always go? You lose something, but then you go on. You start over.”

  A piercing ache burned in my chest, and I ran my fingers across my mouth. I wasn’t going to give in to that pain or think about Adam or any of it. Not here. Not now. “That’s very true,” I choked out.

  She peered at me, her light brown eyes clear behind heavy glasses. “You do understand. I can see it in your eyes.”

  I tried to smile at her, but it wavered.

  She patted my arm and looked back at her flowers. “You just go on. You start over.”

  “Hey,” Berger said, strolling into the room. “Been looking for you two.”

  I cleared my throat. “Nana’s been showing me her petunias.”

  “Has she? That’s cool.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re a very lucky boy, you know, to have a sweet girl like Lindsey to spend time with.”

  An expression I couldn’t read passed over Berger’s face, and then he smiled. “You’re right.” He looked straight at me. “I am.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks at the intensity in his eyes. What was going on? I didn’t blush around Berger.

  He took Nana’s hand. “You want to come to the kitchen? I think your lunch is almost ready.”

  “Finally,” she said.

  Berger and I laughed. He walked her out of the room, careful to make sure the door wasn’t in her way. She smiled. “Yes. Such a lucky boy.”

  I followed, then stopped in the hallway, sucking in a loud breath. Such a lucky boy. It was like Nana had given me a figurative slap across the cheek this time. Why was I still looking for lucky boys? There was one right in front of me. And he made me smile.

  Forty-Six

  Berger

  Something had changed. Lindsey was different, and I didn’t know why. But hey, I shouldn’t complain. Operation Lindsey was rolling along faster than I expected. And maybe faster than it should. But I couldn’t think about that now. I was too busy pedaling to keep up.

  This whole week at school, I kept looking up to find her staring at me. At first I thought she was plotting a way to style my hair, but then sometimes I’d swear she was studying my mouth. Which led to all sorts of speculation on my part. Including how and when I could finally kiss her.

  The worst thing that happened was at lunch on Wednesday. The usual crowd sat there laughing, talking, eating—Claire, Gray, Rose, Parker, Mike, Lindsey, and I—but thankfully no new “lucky” candidates.

  Lindsey had just finished telling a theater-related story, which had Mike and Parker laughing their heads off, when she turned and stuck her mouth practically on my ear.

  I jerked, leaning away, but she just moved closer. “I can make you tell me Kara’s secret,” she whispered, her breath tickling my ear and sending heat up my neck and into my face.

  Breathe, man, just breathe. I stared straight ahead at Gray’s smirking face, because if I turned to her we’d be close to lip-locking.

  “Lindsey?” Parker asked.

  But, of course, she ignored him.

  I coughed out a laugh. “Random much?”

  She sat back in her own chair, and I chanced a look. Her green eyes sparkled as she watched me. “I can,” she said.

  I had no doubt she was telling the truth. And as much as I wanted to invite her to try, we needed to take a step back from all this innuendo. “Does anyone know where Kara Chiu sits at lunch?”

  Several heads shook, but Mike said, “Yeah. Over there in the other corner.” He pointed to the opposite side of the cafeteria.

  “Can you watch our stuff?” I asked Rose, because I did not want to meet Gray’s gaze again.

  “Sure,” she said, “but don’t linger too long.”

  Claire giggled.

  Whatever. “Thanks.” I got up. “Come on,” I said to Lindsey, “you win.”

  She grinned and stood. I took her hand and pulled her across the cafeteria to where Kara sat with a couple of guys I didn’t recognize. They must be sophomores or something. She looked up when we approached and tossed her braid back over her shoulder.

  “Hey, Kara,” I said. “Got a minute?”

  “Yes.” She wore no expression, none, zip.

  “Um, can we talk in front of your friends?” I asked.

  She studied me, and then the light went on in her face. “Oh, sure. They know.”

  The two guys stared at me with complete boredom.

  How was I going to do this? A lie would be easier, but might get confusing, so I sucked it up and went with the truth. “So, I told Lindsey you have a secret, which I’m sorry I did, by the way.”

  A slight frown settled on Kara’s lips.

  “Anyway, she wants to know the secret, but I can’t tell her without your permission. So, is it okay?”

  Kara dragged her braid forward and fiddled with the end of it. She watched Lindsey for a long time. So long, in fact, that Lindsey finally spoke.

  “I’m pretty good with secrets,” she said.

  “Are you?” Kara asked, sounding like she didn’t believe that for a second.

  “Yes.”

  Kara stood up. “I’ll tell you. But on one condition.”

  “What?” Lindsey asked.

  “You stop giving me such a hard time when Mrs. Mac lets you direct the play.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You told me I was singing my lines.”

  “Well, you were.”

  Kara scowled at her.

  “Okay, sorry, sorry. I was only trying to h
elp.”

  “And you’ll be nicer to me?”

  I had to hold in a laugh. Lindsey’s expression twisted like she was frustrated. I could practically read her mind: I am nice to you. She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be nicer to you.”

  Kara smiled. “Okay, then.” She pulled a little piece of paper out of her pocket just like she had with me that first time. “There’s some important information on that website that most people don’t know about. It’s real. You should take it seriously.”

  Lindsey frowned at the slip of paper Kara had put in her hands.

  “Thanks, Kara,” I said. “We’ll see you later. Lindsey will need time to process this.”

  Kara nodded sagely.

  I took Lindsey’s elbow and guided her away from the table. I waited until we were twenty feet away before I spoke. “Don’t you dare laugh. You promised to be nice to her.”

  Lindsey looked up at me, the tip of her tongue showing between her lips. “Please.”

  “Nope. Keep walking.”

  “Can I laugh later?” she asked, her voice wobbly, like she was about to lose it.

  “Don’t. Think about sad things. Sick puppies, orphaned cats.”

  She inhaled a noisy breath. “It isn’t working.”

  “Keep walking. We’re almost back.”

  “UFOs?” she asked quietly.

  “Yup.”

  “That makes my secret so lame.”

  “What secr— Oh, right. So who exactly memorized that play when you were freshmen?”

  Her lips twisted. “Parker, who else?”

  And who, from his seat at the table, stared at us with daggers, knives, and ballistic missiles shooting from his eyes.

  We sat back down. “What’d we miss?” I asked.

  Lindsey erupted in laughter.

  Forty-Seven

  Lindsey

  I gathered my stuffed animals and stacked them in the corner of my bedroom where they were supposed to be. I hadn’t realized I’d been scattering them around the room every week after the cleaning lady came. But for some reason, on this Saturday morning, I’d noticed they were everywhere. Weird.

  I picked up Vivi’s plastic stand from the floor by the dresser. Should I put her back on it? She currently sat on my bedside table where she could glare at me with her green doll eyes any time I was about to do something stupid. Of course it was the same look she always wore, but I liked her keeping an eye on me. So that decided it. I put the stand on a shelf in the closet.

  Time to get dressed. I’d been putting it off long enough. I pulled on my jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and my most comfortable boots, then went into the bathroom and plugged in my hair straightener. It was probably stupid to go full makeup just for grocery shopping, but this would be my first time back to the store since I’d seen Adam and Brisa. It felt like I was putting on armor.

  There was probably zero chance of running into them again, but just in case, I wanted to be prepared. Because there was no freaking way Adam would get away with ignoring me again. We had dated for eight months, and if I saw him, I was going to talk to him. Force him to acknowledge me. I didn’t need anything from him except that. It was only polite.

  And I wouldn’t try to embarrass him. Or her. But he was not allowed to act like I didn’t exist.

  Heat prickled across my chest. Slow down. You’re letting yourself get pissed. I exhaled a long breath and concentrated on fixing my hair. Things had definitely been different this semester. Things I’d counted on were gone. But just like Nana, I was going on. Starting over. I didn’t need Adam. I clenched my fist against a sudden hollow ache in my stomach. No. I had friends who cared about me. I had a lucky boy who always made me laugh.

  And just like that, I was smiling at myself in the mirror. Silly.

  Okay, done. I unplugged the hair straightener. Time to kick some grocery store butt.

  ***

  The following Wednesday, the curtain went down on the dress rehearsal of the play, and I clapped along with everyone else. But inside my head, I was pacing back and forth like a lunatic. Marta’s performance was so inconsistent. One minute she’d be brilliant, delivering her lines like the words just naturally flowed from her mouth. The next minute she’d look so lost it was all Mike could do to get her back on track. He’d even improvised with extra lines to make up for her staring into space.

  Ugh. I knew I shouldn’t judge Marta so harshly, since only two months ago I’d frozen on the stage like a Popsicle, forgotten my lines, and acted like a complete novice. But that was an audition. This play was supposed to be ready to perform, and it was only three weeks until the first round of competition, including Spring Break. So basically two weeks.

  I so should’ve been up there doing that part.

  But I wasn’t. And Mike could only do so much to carry the play. His part just wasn’t that big. It was all Ma Kirby. Which meant Marta. Was there anything I could possibly do to help? Anything I could say to get her out of her own head?

  The curtain went back up, and the actors walked to the front of the stage. Mrs. Mac stood, holding a legal pad full of notes. “Nice work, everyone. We’ll call it a day and go over my notes tomorrow. If in the next twenty-four hours you have thoughts on your own performance, jot them down before you forget them. I want tomorrow to be a discussion, not just me pointing out areas for improvement. Good? Okay, thanks.”

  With a lot of rustling and the squeaking of auditorium seats, people got ready to leave. Mrs. Mac gave me a pointed look, and I thought she was going to say something, but instead she jammed her pencil into her hair and strode toward the backstage stairs. What did that look mean? I wasn’t sure, but I planned to spend time tonight making my own notes on the performance.

  When I reached the aisle, Berger came up to me, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “So if we’re going over the play tomorrow, I guess you and I aren’t rehearsing together.”

  “Guess not.” I adjusted my purse strap. “We don’t need to, anyway. Both of us know all the parts.”

  “True.” He looked around, then leaned in, and whispered, “Is it just me or did that performance suck?”

  “Not just you.” I tilted my head toward the exit, and we started walking.

  “What do you think is gonna happen?” he asked.

  “If nothing changes, they won’t advance beyond the first round, which hasn’t happened in, I don’t know, six or seven years.”

  He held the door open for me. “Wow.” We walked across the foyer and then out into the March afternoon sunshine. “I know what we should do,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The night before the show, we should sneak into all their houses, put something in their food to make them sick, then do the entire play ourselves.”

  I laughed.

  “What? You just said we know all the parts.” He was trying to sound serious, but too much laughter shone in his brown eyes.

  I shook my head at him. “While I do think highly of our abilities, well, mine anyway—”

  “Hey!”

  “—I don’t think we’d advance past the first round either.”

  “We so would! We’d be a phenomenon. People would come from miles around to see us.”

  “And I thought I had a big head.”

  He grinned. “We’d be awesome together, and you know it.”

  I smiled back, but at the warmth growing in his eyes, I had to look away. Did he mean something different by that comment? Something like the two of us making an awesome couple? Not just awesome acting partners? A wave of confusion broke over me. I had to go. Leave before something awkward was said.

  “Lindsey,” he said, his voice low.

  I forced myself to look up at him. “Yeah?”

  “When do you and your family leave for Colorado?”

  I exhaled a thread of air. “Saturday.”

  “So we only have a couple more days for fighting before you go.”

  “Yup,” I said, forcing lightness into my v
oice. “But if you think of some important topic while I’m gone, just text me. I’m sure I can take the opposing viewpoint.”

  He smirked. “Ha, ha. I’m not gonna text you. You’ll be so busy zipping down the slopes, you won’t have time to text back. And then my ego will be so shattered, I won’t be able to move from the couch. I’ll have to play video games with Nana.”

  I laughed. “You’re ridiculous. You know I hate skiing.”

  He leaned closer, twining a couple of fingers with mine. “Do I?”

  My fingers tingled at his touch. “Yes,” I said, a little breathily. What the heck was going on? I mean, we’d flirted before, but this felt different. More real, somehow. “It’s all my parents’ idea. They’re the big sports nuts, not me.”

  Voices sounded behind us as people left the theater building.

  Berger dropped my fingers and took a step away. “What about your brother?”

  “He likes it too. I like sitting in front of the fire drinking hot chocolate.”

  “With peppermint schnapps?”

  A hot flush raced across my cheeks as I remembered flattening myself onto Berger on our sofa. I squinted at him. “I thought we’d agreed never to talk about that night again.”

  He smiled slowly. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

  My heartbeat thudded hard against my ribs. That smile was lethal. I stared at him like I’d never seen him before. Because I hadn’t. Who was this smoldering guy? Where was my happy-go-lucky boy? I swallowed. What had we been talking about? Skiing. Hot chocolate! Right. “Besides, they won’t serve me that in the ski lodge.”

  “Hmm. Too bad.” He gazed past me. “There’s Gray. I’d better go.”

  I pasted a bright smile on my face. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  He reached out and smoothed back a strand of hair that the wind had stretched across my cheek. “Yup. Tomorrow.” And he left, his tall body striding across the near-empty parking lot toward Gray’s car.

  I let out a sigh of relief. Whatever had just happened was too much to take in right now. I had the play to think about. Yes, the play. Think about the play. Nothing else.